The Rogues
by Professor King
Summary: Life as an orphan is never dull for him; odd things happen when he's near. Then Mr. Longbottom shows up, claiming he's a Wizard. Still, he's just a normal Hufflepuff boy, living a normal Wizard life... until a past he's never known begins to catch up with him. His dead ancestors are more than they seem, and for the third time in history, the Chamber has been opened. OC-Centric!
1. Restart

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are my own property. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. – Disclaimer based off of **Harry Potter FanFic Archive** Sample Disclaimer.

_**Chapter 1 – Restart**_

_(June 1__st__, 2024, Street Lane Children's Home, Leeds, England)_

"You're positively bonkers, aren't you?" The incredulous voice of eleven year old Guidemo caused the tall man in his early forties to cringe slightly.

Guidemo had known that the day would be an odd when a tall, lean man in a business suit had arrived at the orphanage doors. He had called himself Neville Longbottom, but asked to be called Mr. or Professor Longbottom due to his status as a headmaster of some sort of prestigious school.

Guidemo had laughed unashamedly at the man's name.

Everyone had thought he'd simply sign up for an adoption form, get to know one of the kids, and then he'd be off.

Things had not gone like that.

Instead, 'Professor' Longbottom asked for Guidemo specifically. He, allegedly, wanted an interview in a private setting with just the two of them, and he would not take 'no' for an answer.

So, their caretaker gave in. Mr. Longbottom would get his interview with Guidemo.

That's when things went weird.

"I guarantee you, son, I am most certainly _not_ bonkers," rebutted the man, a slight edge of weariness in his tone. He leaned forwards and looked Guidemo straight in the eyes before e began speaking again.

"I know this is all very hard to take-in, but you must stop and think for a second. Have you ever wondered as to _why_... odd things seem to happen when you're around? When you're angry, or upset, or excited, something... unexplainable happens?"

"Well... yes," Guidemo's voice was uncertain now. How could this man have known about things like that?

"That, my boy, is magic. Magic is uncontrolled at a young age, and one must practice and exercise their magic to obtain control. That is why Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was created; for young Wizard's and Witches like you to learn how to control and use their magic effectively." The man's words were soft and kind, and, thought he almost couldn't believe it; it was beginning to make sense.

He just had one question.

"Then why do I have magic? How do others have it?"

... make that two questions.

"We cannot be certain, due to your status as an orphan with no surname, but your parents were most likely Muggles, or non-magicals. Though magic is a hereditary trait for most people, it is possible for two non-magical people to give birth to a Witch or a Wizard. In fact, one of the most accomplished Witches I know has Muggle parents. They're dentists, and most certainly not magical."

Guidemo sat there, staring hard at his feet for well over ten minutes before he looked back up at Mr. Longbottom, his eyes burning like pools of molten gold.

"I'll come to the school on one condition," he glared at the Professor with intensity that was hard to come by in one so young.

"And what might that condition be, Guidemo?" asked Mr. Longbottom, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I get to change my name. If I'm going to come to this magic school, I get to change my name. A restart, if you will."

That morning, he woke up Guidemo; orphan, weirdo, outcast. That night, he fell asleep Arcangelo Di Mascalzone; Wizard.

_(July 9__th__, 2024, Diagon Alley)_

Arcangelo almost refused to believe that the man who had shown up at the orphanage doorstep had been perfectly sane, but the proof stood before him.

It felt like stepping one hundred years in the past.

He stood in the epicenter of a cobblestone street, weather-worn buildings lining either side, with people dressed in robes of all kinds and all colors bustling about him.

"Arcangelo?"

He could see a shop on one side selling what looked like _broomsticks_, of all things, one that looked like a joke-shop, and one that seemed to sell ice cream.

"Arcangelo!"

On the other side was a shop advertising robes for anything from casual wear to special occasions, one that seemed to be a pet shop, and one that was stacked with books from floor-to-ceiling.

"OI, KID!"

The angry shout caused him to jump nearly a foot in the air and caused him to toss his head from side-to-side in search of the one who had yelled at him.

His eyes finally fell on the form of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She had long, thick hair the color of an autumn's day, eyes of emerald that called to him like the summer forests, the face of an angel, and the body of a goddess...

... and she was headed right for him.

"Is your name Arcangelo Di Mascalzone?"

Even her voice was soft as silk.

It took him a few moments to realize that she had asked him a question, and he responded with a (slightly hesitant) nod.

"Good. My name's Lily Potter, I'm supposed to be your prefect guide; to help you get set up with your supplies."

He couldn't help but agree, she would most _definitely _make the _**per**_fect bri- ... ahem, _guide._ Yes, that's what he'd meant to think, guide, he'd totally thought guide.

"Well, come-along, then," she tossed over her shoulder as she headed further down the cobblestone street.

Not wanting to be left behind, Arcangelo trotted up to her side, his eyes finally peeling away from her to stare at the unbelievable things all around him.

"Why don't we go get your trunk first, Arcangelo?"

Once again, it took him a few hesitant moments for him to realize she'd asked him a question.

"Oh... uh, sure. I guess it would be easier to carry my things that way," even to him, his response sounded flimsy and insignificant.

He was off to _such_ a great start.

Lily, however, didn't seem to mind, and brought him over to the other end of... Diagon Alley, if he recalled correctly, to buy his trunk.

While they walked, Lily told him everything that she could about Hogwarts.

Soon, Arcangelo was so enraptured by everything she was telling him about the school – and how it had changed so much in the last two decades especially – that he hadn't realized they'd been out shopping for his supplies nearly the entire day.

The first thing that Arcangelo learnt was that what used to be **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**, had changed its name to **Hogwarts International School for the Magically Inclined** just over eleven years ago.

In that time, the school had expanded exponentially.

She told him how, in her father's year (and her father had had her and her siblings at a rather young age), there had been only five boys in his house the same age as him, and only six girls.

Now, there were an average of twenty-eight boys and twenty-two girls in every year for each house at Hogwarts International.

This was the second thing he learned; the Hogwarts house and points system.

How Hogwarts had been founded by the four greatest Wizard's and Witch's of their time; Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin.

The house of Gryffindor was the house of Daring, Nerve, Bravery and Chivalry. Their house colors were red and gold, their emblem was a lion, she herself was a Gryffindor, and her eldest brother James, and her younger twin siblings Sirius and Remus, were all (or had been, in James' case) Gryffindors.

The house of Hufflepuff was the house of Hard Work, Patience, Loyalty and Fair Play. Their house colors were yellow and brown, their emblem was a badger, and they hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since Cedric Diggory had played seeker in the 1992-1993 school year, over thirty years ago.

The house of Ravenclaw was the house of Intelligence, Knowledge and Wit. Their house colors were blue and bronze, their emblem was an eagle (oddly enough), and they had given way to some of the most innovative witches and wizards of their time. He duly noted that it was a Ravenclaw that had revolutionized the Hogwarts system.

The house of Slytherin was the house of Ambition, Cunning and Resourcefulness. Their house colors were green and silver, their emblem was a snake, her older brother Albus had graduated from Slytherin last year, and they had given way to some of the Darkest and most terrible Witches and Wizards history had ever witnessed. The most terrible of them had been a man named Tom Riddle, but was known to the Wizarding World as Voldemort, or he-who-must-not-be-named.

This was the third thing he learned; Lily was famous because her parents were even _more _famous.

According to Lily, twenty eight years ago her father Harry James Potter had combated the Dark Lord Voldemort in his seventh year, in what would be known as The Battle of Hogwarts... and won.

After that, they had gotten onto lighter subject, one being the prefect system for fifth, sixth and seventh years, how the houses competed for points by doing well in school to obtain the House Cup, how there was a Head Boy and Girl every seventh year; the two best in the school.

He learned about all the different electives Hogwarts offered to its older students.

He learned how Headmaster Longbottom, who had only been named Headmaster a few years prior, was one of Lily's father's best friends.

He learned about how Hogwarts was believed to be sentient, with all of its moving staircases and hidden passages.

He learned about the Black Lake and the Whomping Willow and the Forbidden Forest and everything in between.

Yet, none of these things compared to the fourth and final _big_ thing that Arcangelo learned that day.

Well, okay, _learned_ wasn't exactly the term he was looking for.

Found was more accurate... for he had found his dream.

Arcangelo had met Garrick Ollivander and instantly fell in love.

...

No, not with the man himself, sicko's! He's like, over one hundred years old for Merlin's sake!

No, Arcangelo fell in love with his _art_; the art of wand crafting.

He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but he knew he did.

It absolutely enthralled him.

He _wanted _to know how.

He _wanted_ to know why.

What made these woods act so differently?

What made these magical foci react the way they did?

What made a wizard's magic respond to only a certain type of wand?

He wanted to know.

He _had_ to know.

And after a six hour long discussion with Mr. Ollivander on everything and anything to do with magical wands, it was settled.

Mr. Ollivander would be able to pass his art on to his apprentice before the ailments of age consumed him.

By this time, Lily was long gone (and long forgotten, due to the long day), Mr. Ollivander had a date to set up the custody of one Arcangelo Di Mascalzone with both the Ministry and the orphanage that had been his home for, well, forever, and Arcangelo was sleeping on a slightly lumpy cot in the tiny backroom of Garrick's shop.


	2. The Start of Something Huge

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are my own property. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. – Disclaimer based off of **Harry Potter FanFic Archive** Sample Disclaimer.

_**Chapter 2 – The Start of Something Huge**_

_(September 1__st__, 2024, Kings Cross Station)_

He didn't want to admit it, but seeing all of the families sending off their children struck a chord of pain that he thought he'd been rid of a long time ago. (At least, a long time by the standards of an eleven year old. In reality, it wasn't any more than three years.)

He had managed to haul his trunk up onto the train without any help and was slowly lugging it down the length of the train whilst looking for an empty compartment.

There were teenagers running around the train, between compartments and up-and-down the middle aisle, doing anything and everything Arcangelo could imagine.

He saw some kids eating sweets unlike any he had ever seen, he watched others converse about their magic-infested holidays, and he couldn't help the feeling of excitement that bubbled up in his chest at the thought of going to a school _made_ for people like this.

People like him.

Eventually, he found a compartment near the end of the (unbelievably long) train that was completely empty. He dragged his trunk through the door, hefted it onto the one of the racks above the seats, and slumped down in exhaustion.

His trunk was _heavy!_

As sat there with his head leaning against the wall, memories of the summer came to the forefront of his mind.

It was, without a doubt, the best summer that he'd ever had.

Garrick had taught him anything and everything he could about the Wizarding world, and Arcangelo was absorbing everything like a sponge. Garrick kept making jokes that he'd be the perfect Ravenclaw all throughout the time they'd spent together.

Once Garrick began to teach him all about Wands and Magical Foci, the two only grew closer, and it wasn't long before Arcangelo accidentally called Garrick grandfather. He'd been completely embarrassed and had tried (profusely) to apologize for the slip of the tongue. Garrick had only laughed, patted his head affectionately, and said his grandson had said nothing wrong at all.

Only two days later, he was legally Arcangelo Di Mascalzone-Ollivander.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Arcangelo opened the flap to his beige-brown leather book bag (that had been a gift from Grandfather) and dug around in it for a few seconds.

He came back up with a small, incredibly worn leather bound book with more pages sticking out of its sides than it had probably originally owned. The cover was a faded red with the simple word _Notes_ scrawled across the front in thin, looping golden writing.

It was no more than a few seconds before Arcangelo lost himself in his grandfather's teenage ramblings of his discoveries of the properties of Unicorn Hair.

"Can I sit here?"

"Argh!" Arcangelo nearly leapt out of his skin as his reading was interrupted.

Gathering his thoughts, Arcangelo looked up through his thick, sweeping bangs at the boy standing in the doorway.

He was rather average-looking; short brown hair that was just a shade from being dirty blond, eyes that were a unique shade of azure, and an impressively thin frame that looked to be brought on by genetics, not malnutrition.

He had lived at an orphanage for most of his life, he could tell the difference.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" His accent was odd as well, most definitely not British, but, _having lived in an orphanage almost his entire life_, Arcangelo couldn't nearly place it.

"Yes,"

"Does that mean I can sit here, or I scared you?" He asked, laughter in his tone.

Arcangelo hesitated slightly, before nodding.

"Both,"

The boy flashed a grin at him, showing off his pearly whites, before dragging his trunk in to the compartment, quite literally.

It took a moment for Arcangelo to notice the sweat that trickled past his temples and the shaking of his arms as he heaved the trunk into the compartment, inch-by-inch, before he sighed.

"Would you like some help with that?"

His commented interrupted a rather sensual sounding grunt that he was quite sure had him blushing slightly.

This boy was weird.

"That would be great, th-" The boy stood up straight and wiped an arms across his forehead as he heard Arcangelo's offer for help, but his jaw dropped, mid-sentence, as he watched the tiny boy wearing baggy clothes practically toss the trunk onto the rack above the seat.

"W-wait, what?" The confounded confusion in the boy's voice caused a small bubble of laughter to erupt from Arcangelo's chest.

"I'm stronger than I look," was the only response Arcangelo gave the poor guy.

He sat down where he had been sitting previously, his book bag at his feet with his grandfather's note book on top of it, and the boy sat across from him.

There was a couple of seconds of awkward silence before the taller of the two (even though it wasn't by _that_ much) recollected himself.

"My name's Trevor, it's, uh, nice to meet you?" He trailed off into a question near the end of his question, scratching the back of his neck with one arm and giving Arcangelo a squinty grin.

"I'm Arcangelo, and it _is_ nice to meet you, Trevor," Arcangelo's teasing tone and snarky smirk caused Trevor to huff and roll his eyes.

"I'm Sam!"

"Augh!"

The voice was rather meek and quiet, but was so unexpected that the both of them let out yelps of surprise and jumped in their seats. Arcangelo couldn't help it.

"Why do people keep scaring me, dammit!"

The compartment was silent for a couple of seconds before Trevor began chuckling, and eventually dissolved into a fit of laughter.

The poor girl standing in the doorway blushed a healthy shade of red, and visibly shrunk in on herself when the two boys turned their attention on her.

"A-ah, s-sor-ry, I-I didn't m-mean to, I-I'll j-just go..." As she spoke, her voice became slowly weaker, until the boys could barely hear her.

However, Arcangelo wasn't focusing on her voice. In fact, his thoughts were far from her voice.

Instead, they were firmly and unflinchingly focused on the way she ducked her head down and tucked her light-brown hair behind her ear as she spoke.

His heart felt like it would leap from his chest, sprout wings, and make a beeline for the sun.

Trevor seemed to notice his new friend's sudden lack of ability in the skill that is speech, and decided to take initiative.

"It's no problem at all... Sam, right?" He assured her, and then asked to make sure that he had gotten her name right. She was, after all, very quiet, so he couldn't be a _hundred_ percent sure.

She nodded her head slightly, and hesitantly, "M-my name is S-Samantha, b-but please c-call me Sam," she told them, once again tucking a lock of hair behind one of her ears.

Once more there was a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Would you like some help with that?" Arcangelo gestured towards the trunk resting in the hall behind Sam, and her blush returned.

"P-please," was all she needed to say before Arcangelo was on his feet. There was a slightly awkward moment where Sam was still standing in the doorway and Arcangelo needed to get past her to get to her trunk, but it was resolved by her blushing even harder and quickly sitting down next to Trevor.

Just like with Trevor just a few moments before, Sam was surprised when the boy, who didn't look to be any bigger than her, lifted her trunk up and onto the racks with little effort.

He turned, closed the sliding compartment door, and sat down opposite Trevor and Sam, who was once again tucking a lock of hair behind her ear under Arcangelo's gaze.

"So, just to make sure everyone's got it," began Trevor, "That's Sam," he jabbed a thumb at the girl sitting beside him, "That's Arcangelo," he pointed to the tiny boy with his thick black bangs swept to the side, yet still hanging over his eyes, "and that's Trevor," he joked, pointing a thumb in his own direction.

Arcangelo let out a small snort of amusement, but his heart fluttered and his cheeks turned pink at the sound of Sam's quiet giggle.

There was another slightly awkward pause.

"Arcangelo?"

"Yes?" Arcangelo's attention was turned from taking in the details of Sam's face, to Trevor.

"Can I ask you something?"

Suddenly finding himself in a snarky mood, Arcangelo smirked lightly.

"You just did."

Trevor rolled his eyes, and went on as if Arcangelo's comment was incentive to continue.

"Your name doesn't sound British at all... what is it?" He asked; leaning forwards slightly in curiosity.

Arcangelo was put off by the sudden question, even though he knew a question was coming due to Trevor's warning, of sorts.

"It means Arch-Angel in Italian," he said after a little while, surprising Trevor (and Sam), who had thought Arcangelo was ignoring his question.

"... so... you're Italian, then?" Arcangelo just shrugged, confusing the other two, but they decided not to comment.

"What about you then, Trevor?" Arcangelo's question seemed to confuse the boy, so he elaborated.

"Where are you from? Your accent certainly isn't British,"

Trevor's chest puffed out slightly.

"I'm from Canada!"

"... Cool."

Arcangelo swore Trevor looked like an owl preening his feathers in that moment.

There was another awkward moment of silence.

"Hey, I know how we can get to know each other better!" exclaimed Trevor excitedly.

Arcangelo raised an eyebrow in the boy's direction, curious as to where this was going.

"You guys know what twenty questions is?" asked Trevor.

Both of them shook their heads, and for a second Trevor looked crestfallen before he suddenly perked up again.

"Well, it's easy. Here, I'll ask a question, both of you answer the question, and then I'll answer the question. Then someone else takes a turn to ask a question until we've asked twenty questions!"

Before either of them could agree to the 'terms' of this 'game', Trevor shot into his first question.

"What's your favorite color?"

... oh well, he couldn't see the harm in answering.

"Mine's blue," answered Arcangelo.

"Yellow," was Sam's reply.

"I like Red!" Trevor finished by answering his own question.

...

"Arcangelo, you ask a question," Trevor prodded the boy's knee to get him to speak.

He sat there, thinking about it for a moment, before asking his question.

"What house do you think you'll be in, and why?"

"That's two questions," Trevor informed Arcangelo, who mock-pouted at the boy.

"Fine, just the first then."

"Gryffindor," was Trevor's immediate reply, but Sam's came a little slower, and much quieter.

"Hufflepuff,"

Arcangelo nodded, before answering his own question with 'Ravenclaw'.

Both of them looked expectantly at Sam, and she tucked her hair behind her ear again. Arcangelo noticed it was a nervous tick she had. She was shy, so she'd duck her head down and her hair would come loose from behind her ear, and then when someone acknowledged her, she'd tuck it back again.

"What is your favorite hobby?"

"Flying with my dad," was Trevor's instant reply.

...

"Wait, what?! You can _fly_? Can all Wizard's fly?! What the hell!"

The two were so startled by his outburst that it took them a few moments to process what he'd said.

"Wait... Arcangelo, are your parents Muggles?"

Arcangelo just blinked at him.

"Non-magical?"

Comprehension dawned on his face, and then uncertainty settled in.

"I don't know, I've lived in an orphanage all my life, and only gave myself a last name just over two months ago as a condition for my coming to Hogwarts."

That seemed to thoroughly startle them, and the mood in the compartment suddenly dropped.

...

"My favorite past-time is reading my Grandfather's notes," said Arcangelo out of the blue.

Trevor gained a sudden look of outrage on his face.

"I thought you said you were an orphan!"

...

It took Arcangelo a moment to realise the sudden idiocy of his statement, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Not my grandfather by blood. I was adopted by Garrick Ollivander just _under_ a month ago. I was just supposed to be his apprentice, to take over the wand shop one day, because I find wand crafting absolutely _fascinating_, but we bonded over the summer. It kind of, just... happened..."

...

"Was that the book you were reading when I got here?" Trevor asked suddenly, and Arcangelo looked down at where his grandfather's notes were lying at his feet, before nodding.

"Cool," was his only comment.

"Hey Sam, what's your favorite past-time?" Arcangelo asked, getting a startled look from the shy girl. He was surprised when she recovered rather quickly and gave a small, sad smile.

"I like listening to music, but t-technology doesn't m-mix w-well with magic, and the school is f-filled with magic, s-so..."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Sam," Arcangelo apologized, even though there was nothing to apologize for. He just felt bad that he had his grandfather's notes and Trevor had his dad's flying, but Sam couldn't have her music...

... wait...

Sam was frantically waving her hands in front of her and trying to tell Arcangelo that he didn't have anything to apologize for, but the boy was no longer listening.

"... Hey, wait a minute... how can you fly?!" he suddenly yelled out, pointing at Trevor accusingly.

"..."

To the three of them, it felt like the entire train had gone silent just to listen to Arcangelo's yelling.

"... Uh, brooms," was the first thing that came out of Trevor's mouth, but he was quick to continue with his explanation.

"Wizards even have an entire sport based around flying brooms, called Quidditch," and it wasn't long before the game of twenty questions was forgotten about and the young Witch and Wizard were passionately explaining the do's-and'-don't-s of Quidditch.

It wasn't long before the three of them realized that they could see Hogsmeade through the train window, and they had yet to change into their robes. (They had completely ignored the lady with the trolley in favor of teaching Arcangelo everything about Quidditch. In the short time he had known her, Arcangelo had never seen Sam any less shy.)

After giving Sam some privacy by leaving the compartment and changing in the hall, the three of them gathered their trunks – albeit with some difficulty for Sam and Trevor – and ambled their way down the length of the train.

They got off the train behind a rambunctious group of third years and were told to leave their trunks – and any pets they may have had on them – with the Hogwarts Groundkeeper; some guy Trevor called Mr. Jordan. Arcangelo could only suspect they would be brought into the castle, and later to their dormitories by some magical means.

His attention was turned from where he had placed his luggage to the man literally twice his size booming over the heads of the students.

"Firs' years! Firs' years! C'mon now, we don' have all nigh', do we?"

He was waving hands the size of dustbin lids, and with an apprehensive glance towards Trevor and Sam, I moved forwards.

We shoved our way through the crowd of older students making their way over to some carriages off to the side that... were...

... completely unmanned. There weren't even horses tethered to the front of the carriages, they were just making their way up the path to the school on their own.

Magic. It would definitely take some getting used-to.

The mountain of a man who called himself Rubeus Hagrid led them – that is, the first years – down a steep, narrow path to the edge of a lake whose surface was unnaturally still.

Arcangelo couldn't help it, his breath hitched in his throat at the magnificent sight before him.

The group of first years were standing at the edge of what they would later learn was the Black Lake. Living up to its name, the surface of the lake was so dark, it reflected the star-filled sky above it to mirror-perfection.

Sitting in the middle of this replica of the night sky was a massive island, with a huge rocky cliff face on their side. Atop this cliff face sat Hogwarts in all her turrets-and-spire, luminous glory. The castle shone like a beacon atop the island in the darkness of the night and, even from afar, Arcangelo could sense the feeling of _home_ the castle emanated.

The massive man, Hagrid, took his place in a boat that barely fit his entirety, and was rapidly followed by the first year students finding themselves in groups of four per boat.

Without a word, the boats lurched forwards across the lake, and once more Arcangelo couldn't help the quick thought of 'magic' from speeding through his head.

Distracted by the things happening around him, Arcangelo failed to notice the people with whom he sat.

Thankfully, Sam had been mindful of where her friend was absentmindedly wandering off to.

Sam had found her spot next to him, and Trevor was sitting next to a boy with, oddly enough, ice-white hair that was pulled back into a small ponytail. His eyes were a vibrant white-blue as well.

Arcangelo zoned-in on the conversation just in time to hear Trevor begin the introductions.

" – we all know each other from the train; that's Sam, that's Arcangelo, and my name's Trevor." He finished by jamming a thumb at his chest.

"I'm Ignotus, Ignotus Dobby Potter," the boy introduced himself. His voice was soft, but held a sort of confidence that Arcangelo had only ever heard in one other person's voice before.

And her last name had also been 'Potter'.

"You," all eyes in the boat turned to him, "wouldn't happen to be related to Lily Potter, would you?" he asked, eliciting an eyebrow-raise from Ignotus.

"You know my sister?"

Arcangelo would have nodded, but Hagrid's call of 'duck yer heads, now' distracted him as he tried to prevent getting his head wrapped in hanging moss.

"Uh, yeah... she was my prefect guide, to help me get my supplies in Diagon Alley," Arcangelo eventually responded, eliciting a knowing nod from Ignotus.

Absentmindedly, Arcangelo stepped out of the boat and followed the rest of the first years from the dungeon to the Great Hall.

"Why is your hair white, I thought Lily's was red?" asked Arcangelo as they made their way up the stairs.

"My sister's hair _is_ red, and most Potters have red or brown-black hair," he affirmed, but only got further eyebrow-raises – now from all three of them – because of his explanation.

"Then why is your hair _white?_" Arcangelo prodded further.

Ignotus laughed.

"I'm a minor Metamorphmagus. A Metamorph can change their physical appearance at will; I can change my hair color, texture and length, as well as some minor facial features." He explained to the three people he'd shared a boat with. Two were nodding their heads in a manner that said '_Oh~, that_ makes sense,' while the other had his eyes and mouth open wide in awe.

"Yeah, but why white?" Arcangelo finally managed to get out after being in awe of Ignotus' power.

Before the Metamorph could respond, a young red-head strode past them and through the doors of the Great Hall, tossing a comment over her shoulder.

"That's 'cause Dweeby is obsessed with elves!"

...

"Who was that?" asked Arcangelo, confused.

"Dweeby?" questioned Trevor, amused.

"Elves?" wondered Sam, intrigued.

Ignotus sighed resignedly, as if the girl's actions were a common occurrence.

"That's my sister Aurora, she's in Third Year," which meant her actions probably _were_ a common occurrence, "Dweeby is what my siblings call me, because I'm much more 'into' muggle technology than they are, and it's a supposed play-on-words of my middle name; Dobby," he sighed again, "and yes, Elves. I have play any and every video game containing elves probably ever made. I love the way they look, and the kind of magic they can perform. So, using my Metamorph ability, I made myself look like one. Like the ears?"

He tweaked his ears between his thumb and forefinger, displaying that they were most definitely pointier than any ears had the right to be.

"It's fitting, really, considering that Dobby is the name of a house-elf that sacrificed himself during the last Wizarding War to save my father's life."

The small group was silent for a few moments, before Sam decided to break the silence.

"_I think it looks c-cool_,"

Though, it was sort-of ruined by the fact that nobody could decipher her whisper.

"What?" asked Ignotus, wondering what the shy girl had to say.

"I-I said I think the 'Elf L-look', looks good o-on you," she repeated, a little more forcefully this time.

The bridge of Ignotus' nose flared crimson, and his cheeks were tainted with pink.

"Thank you, Sam," he nodded in appreciation.

During their conversation, the group of four had failed to notice the Hogwarts ghosts drift through the room they were waiting in, and had just 'returned' to the world of the living when they were ushered into the Great Hall by the Deputy Headmaster; Professor Finch-Fletchley.

The first years were told to line up in the middle of the Great Hall, two (incredibly long) tables on each side of them. The ones on the right, Arcangelo noted, had robes with yellow lining, and the ones on the left had robes with blue lining.

One by one, the students were called up chronologically by last name, told to sit down on a stool in front of the whole school, and put on a hat.

Yes, a hat.

The hat would then do one of two things; instantly shout out one of the names of the four Hogwarts Houses, or rest on the student's head for a solid minute before yelling out the name of the house they would be sorted into.

The longest one so far had been just over two minutes.

The shortest one had been a student who had barely brushed the tip of the hat with his finger before it yelled out RAVENCLAW!

"Ellers, Samantha!" Professor Finch-Fletchley called form his position beside the hat and the stool.

Sam stood in front of Arcangelo, and he gave her a swift squeeze on the shoulder to show his support.

She sat with at atop her head for no more than thirty seconds before the word HUFFLEPUFF was ringing across the hall.

Putting the hat down on the stool, Sam nearly ran to a seat at the end of the table, her cheeks a healthy pink and her eyes trained on her feet.

Arcangelo noted with curiosity that the trimming on her robes had turned yellow the second she had been sorted into Hufflepuff.

It wasn't too much longer before "Martin, Trevor," was called, and the almost-blond haired boy strutted up the hat, put it on, put it back down on the stool, and then strutted away to the cheers of the Hufflepuff table.

Two more names were called – though Arcangelo wasn't paying attention to them – before his own name was called.

"Di Mascalzone-Ollivander, Arcangelo!"

He got a few odd looks, probably due to his name, but walked up to the sentient hat anyway.

Lifting it, he twisted, sat down, and let the hat flop down on his head to cover his eyes.

"_My, what an... interesting one you are, Mr... Di Mascalzone."_ Arcangelo nearly jumped a foot in the air at the sudden voice intruding on his thoughts.

"Interesting _how_?" He questioned the hat.

"_It has been many, _many_ years since I have met one with the heart of a Lion, soul of a Badger, mind of an Eagle and drive of a Snake... so, where will we fit you little-one. Tell me child; will you find adventure with the Pride, live how you wish in the Den, soar to unimaginable heights in the Roost, or fulfill your inner desire, no matter the cost, among those of the Nest?"_

Though Arcangelo found it difficult to follow the philosophical mumbo-jumbo the hat was spouting; he understood a choice when he saw one, and he only saw one choice here.

"My friends are in Hufflepuff."

"_Ah, yes, and that sentimentality itself belongs among the loyal and caring Badgers. It seems you will follow your friend to..."_

"...HUFFLEPUFF!" finished the hat, yelling out the last word of his sentence for the rest of the hall to hear.

Standing, Arcangelo removed the hat, put it back on the stool, and made his was to sit with Sam and Trevor.

He couldn't believe it! Today had to be one of the best days of his life. He'd made friends, people like him, people who lived in a world filled with _magic_! He'd arrived, actually _arrived_, at a school that taught kids like him how to _use_ their gift of magic.

He'd waited in line, anticipating his name being called to participate in the sorting. The first two friends he'd ever made had both been sorted into the same house he'd been sorted into! He was elated! And the day was just getting better.

For, sitting up on the stool with the Sorting Hat dropping over his eyes was his newest friend, Ignotus, the word 'Hufflepuff' echoing through the expansive hall!

...

So why did it look like he was headed for his own grave as he made his way to the open seat beside Arcangelo?

**Alright! Here's the second chapter of The Rogues! What do you guys think so far? Leave a Review! Review's Inspire!**

**-**_**Professor King**_


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